


No Rest (For the Wicked)

by cassbuttandsquirrel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in Love (Supernatural), Coda, Episode Related, Episode: s15e18 Despair - Castiel's Confession Scene, Grumpy Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, MCD is Cas, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, but he gets better :), deancas reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27517624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassbuttandsquirrel/pseuds/cassbuttandsquirrel
Summary: He is not awake or aware, and it is but one last curse upon thousands that angels cannot dream.[Adding to the 200+ codas already out there about 15x18. Deancas Canon!!!]
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60
Collections: Destiel is Canon - 15x18 Codas, SPN Finale "Destiel is CANON" Collection





	No Rest (For the Wicked)

**Author's Note:**

> been thinking a lot about how Cas has always been destined to end up in the empty (as are all angels after death) and that this ending for Castiel is actually surprisingly satisfying considering his character.
> 
> This is a brief exploration of how Cas felt about joining the Empty and the eventual Deancas Reunion.

If there's one state that is inherently linked to the nature of humanity, it's exhaustion.

Castiel remembers the way it clung to him during his monotonous shifts at the Gas-n-Sip in Rexford, how it sucked at his heels when he struggled to tie his shoelaces in the half-dark of dawn and how it numbed his fingers as he tugged his sleeping bag out from behind the box of single-ply toilet paper in the stockroom. He doesn't know when it began to curl its fingers into his shoulders again, but as he gives up the last and most precious of his secrets, he realizes it has become his constant companion. Maybe this is what happens to all angels, when they've reached their expiration date, their grace seeps out in a slow and steady flood, until they can do nothing but welcome Fate when she comes to send them on. What's more likely is that _this_ is the infamous crack in his chassis, the slip of the pen in his blueprints, the price he pays for freedom, and the rope he chooses to hang himself with. 

And to give it up for the Righteous Man, Dean Winchester, the brightest soul in the pit? Unknowable millennia of existence and this is where it ends? There's a peace, Castiel finds, that comes with the inerrancy of a Right Decision. For all his flaws and betrayals, he can do this one Good Thing. Castiel isn't so unaware as to think it absolution, but he knows it to be True.

Affection, love, roars bright in his chest, the burdens of guilt and anger and self-loathing floating away like so much burning ashes seeking the stars. Everything that needed to be said has been said. Dean knows that he is loved, and what's more, that he is deserving of nothing else. 

He accepts the only birthright his celestial nature can afford him.

Eternal Rest.

And so Castiel sleeps. It's easy to find rest in the void of the Empty. It's a place unbound by space, both immeasurable and embodied simultaneously and Castiel sleeps soundly while the Empty and Death rage and his first brother heckles both sides without contrition. 

He is not awake or aware, and it is but one last curse upon thousands that angels cannot dream. 

Until he is.

There is a pressure on his arm and blurs of colour, and voice in his ear saying:

"Good morning, Sunshine." 

Everything is out of focus and his head feels like it has been stuffed with the wool of a thousand irritable sheep. He is tired. 

The voice says something else, and a second voice responds and Cas is listening, really he is, until there's a "... right, Cas?" and he can't recall anything uttered before those two echoing hollowly.

Someone's touching him again, and all he wants to do is fall back into the warmth of oblivion, but there's a hand on his face now and it's incredibly disruptive. His facial muscles scrunch in displeasure, and it's the first he's moved in what feels like eons and his eyes flutter open, briefly, directly contrary to Castiel's will. 

"There you are." 

That voice is warm too, but Castiel hates it. Fatigue claws at his limbs desperate to pull him back under.

"C'mon, man, you gotta wake up."

For the sake of returning to his rest, Castiel grates out a low, "No."

There's blessed quiet. Then-

"You're faking, I know it."

If there's a second state that is inherently linked to the nature of humanity, it's frustration.

It wells deep and unexpected within him, spilling over his lips with a forceful "No, I am not." Even before he sees the infuriating smirk on the face before him, Castiel knows he's lost. His eyes are open, annoyance pushing the last of sleep's potion from his arteries.

"Thought you could say all that shit and not have to carry through, huh? Lazy bastard."

Cas hovers over a variety of answers he can give to that statement but finally settles on the most succinct. 

"Fuck you." 

The light in Dean's eyes is almost unbearable.

"Mm, maybe later." 

He briefly considers calling Dean a coward - what, he thinks he can just get off the hook with a smart quip and a devastating smile? - but he's _here_ and so, Castiel realises with a start, are Sam and Jack, crouched on either side of him, looking various degrees of relieved and exasperated. He takes pity on Sam, and changes his mind. 

He presses a hand into Jack's and exchanges hellos with Sam as Dean drops his hand from his face and gets up, only to reach back down again after a moment. Cas makes a point to roll his eyes before accepting the proffered hand, but takes it gladly, as his legs tremble slightly under his weight. As Jack clings to his side and Sam tries to summarize the events leading up to his rescue, Cas lets himself be lead to the familiar black beast of the impala.

They're outside, and it's overcast. The moonlight is barely filtering through a thinner layer of clouds. Dean's flicked on a flashlight, the beam bouncing along the ground in an effort to keep them all from tripping, and even though Cas can't make out his face behind the brightness of the LED blub, he knows he's smiling.

Maybe there are some dreams worth waking up for. 

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this in a haze,  
> hope you enjoyed!!  
> Kudos and Comments Always Appreciated  
> So much love to you and yours 
> 
> Survive the final episodes with me on [ Twitter! ](https://twitter.com/librarian_gamer?s=07)


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